


cookies fix everything

by thedarkestnightwillend



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: :), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cookies, Fluff, M/M, idk what else to tag that's really it, like so much fluff, oh and awkward enjolras, oh and cookies?, painter!grantaire, yeah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:49:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26858491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedarkestnightwillend/pseuds/thedarkestnightwillend
Summary: But this goddamned painting. It wasn’t even supposed to be that hard, Grantaire just couldn’t seem to get anything about it even close to correct.Grantaire was still deep in thought and self pity when he heard a knock on his door.“It’s probably open!” He called out, eager to try and be productive again. Even though he hadn’t been anywhere close to it for a few hours.“It’s not!” A familiar voice answered.Grantaire opened the door to the exact person he would least expect to be at his dorm.“Enjolras?” He waved sheepishly. “What… What are you doing here?”
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 85





	cookies fix everything

**Author's Note:**

> pfft this was supposed to be angst
> 
> (for the hoes :D)
> 
> (also i'm sorry for the shitty title) (i tried)

Grantaire had been working on the same painting for weeks now. He took breaks on weekends, and worked on weekdays. It was enough. However, this meant he hadn’t been at an Amis meeting in  _ much  _ too long. He’d gotten texts from Bossuet, Joly,  _ and _ Courfeyrac asking what was up and where he had been, and he answered them. But that was it.

This painting was just pissing him off. It was for his Classical Arts class, and the grade in that one was… not great. For the first time in months Grantaire had motivation to try to raise a grade simply because it was the only class he liked. Well. One of them.

Greek Literature 101. The class was  _ interesting _ , yes, however the thing that made it even better was being able to stare mindlessly at the back of Enjolras’ head. He didn’t really know what he thought of when he did as such, but he knew it was better than the arguments that would normally ensue when they would be forced to interact. This was definitely better than that.

But this  _ goddamned painting.  _ It wasn’t even supposed to be that hard, Grantaire just couldn’t seem to get anything about it even close to correct. 

Grantaire was still deep in thought and self pity when he heard a knock on his door. 

“It’s probably open!” He called out, eager to try and be productive again. Even though he hadn’t been anywhere close to it for a few hours. 

“It’s not!” A familiar voice answered.

Grantaire opened the door to the exact person he would least expect to be at his dorm. 

“Enjolras?” He waved sheepishly. “What… What are you doing here?” Grantaire looked him up and down, and upon noticing how disgustingly put-together Enjolras looked, he crossed his arms in subconscious insecurity. Grantaire had paint all over his hands and hadn’t washed his hair in like, way too long to be considered okay.

“You haven’t been to a meeting in like, three weeks. I was starting to get worried.” Grantaire raised an eyebrow.

“You were worried about me?”

“I, well,” Enjolras stammered, “It was more of a… group decision? To check on you?” Grantaire nodded slowly. 

“Uh, okay. Well, I’m fine, so you can like, go if you want.” Enjolras shook his head.

“No, wait! I, um, brought cookies.” Grantaire hadn’t even seen what was in his hands. “Courfeyrac made them and said you would probably like them,” Enjolras explained.

“Oh. Thanks.” He handed the aluminum wrapped plate over. Grantaire wasn’t sure what to do, now that he had cookies in his hands and Enjolras’ purpose for visiting seemed to be concluded. 

“Okay, well, anyway, hope you’re doing okay,” Enjolras added after an uncomfortable silence. 

“Yeah, Classicals Arts is kind of kicking my ass, but I’ll be fine.” 

“Ah. Not fun.” Grantaire nodded. “Well, next meeting is Thursday, I hope to see you there!” Enjolras waved and shoved his hands into his pockets as he turned to walk down the hallway. Grantaire shut the door with his foot and carried the plate of cookies to the kitchen counter. He set it down on a stack of papers, and peeled back the aluminum foil. A large stack of chocolate chip cookies sat in front of him. 

Grantaire really needed to get work done. But…  _ cookies _ . 

Cookies won out easily.

<<<>>>

Grantaire was still working on the painting two days later. It was Thursday, he knew that there was a meeting today. He got texts from Courfeyrac and Bossuet this time— Joly worked Thursday nights. He was well aware that his absence was noticed. 

But this painting. Was going.  _ Nowhere. _ And at this point, Grantaire was frustrated with everything. The fact that his coffee mug was empty, that his paintbrush was starting to grow stiff from lack of use in the past hour, that his phone  _ kept buzzing, what the hell? _

Grantaire picked up his phone to see, like, four texts from Courfeyrac.

_ Courf: dude are u still not done with ur painting? _

_ Courf: enjolras told me he dropped off cookies on tues did you like them _

_ Courf: wait _

_ Courf: did he say i made them? _

Grantaire squinted at his phone. 

_ You: yeah? why _

_ Courf: goddammit enjolras _

Grantaire waited for a follow up on that very vague message, but got nothing. About a half hour later, his phone buzzed again.

_ Unknown: Hey, Courf gave me your number _

_ You: ok who is this _

_ Unknown: Enjolras. _

Grantaire rolled his eyes. Courfeyrac  _ loved _ to put himself into things like this. Granted, he probably shouldn’t have told him he liked Enjolras. Grantaire shook his head and input Enjolras’ name into his contacts.

_ You: oh hey _

_ Enjolras: I’m gonna guess Classical Arts is still kicking your ass? _

_ You: yeahh sorry i couldn’t make it to the meeting again _

_ Enjolras: It’s fine! Courfeyrac made more cookies though, do you want me to drop by? _

Grantaire had sadly eaten all of Tuesday’s cookies. He could definitely do with more, they were delightful.

_ You: yeah sure, that would be cool _

Fifteen minutes later, Enjolras knocked on Grantaire’s door, holding an aluminum wrapped plate. 

“Hello again,” Grantaire greeted. 

“Hi!” Enjolras answered, handing Grantaire the plate. “How’s the painting going?” Grantaire shrugged. 

“I mean. It’s been going about the same for three weeks now; slow and not at all productive.” Enjolras nodded slowly. “You wanna like, come in?” 

“Oh! Sure, okay.” 

“I probably shouldn’t eat an entire plate of cookies on my own this time,” Grantaire explained, walking to the kitchen. “Sorry about the clutter, kind of forgot about that.” Enjolras shakes his head, taking his seat on a stool. Grantaire put down the plate, crushing the aluminum foil in his hands and throwing it into a trash bin.

“So. How was the meeting today?” Grantaire asked, taking a bite of cookie. Enjolras shrugged.

“Good. Not bad. We’ve been working on a volunteer day for a local food bank.” Grantaire nods through chewing. “I don’t know if you were there for that idea, but if you’re interested, I think it’s probably going to be the third.”

“What day is that? Sunday?” Enjolras shook his head.

“Saturday.” Grantaire thought about it, hopefully he would be done by then, since it was next week. But he also took breaks on weekends, so it didn’t really matter.

“I could probably make it,” He decided. Enjolras smiled.

“Great! I’ll put you down for something, we’ll figure it out later.” 

“Great.” Enjolras took a bite of his cookie, and Grantaire remembered something. “Oh! Courfeyrac was texting me earlier today, he asked if you said he made the cookies on Tuesday? I was like ‘yeah duh’, and then he disappeared after cursing your existence.” Enjolras stopped chewing. “What exactly do you think that means?” Grantaire waited a few moments for an answer. 

“Uh,” Enjolras started, “No idea.”

“Huh. Weird.”

“Yeah, really weird.” Enjolras ate the last of his cookie and stood up. “Well, I kind of need to get going, so—” Grantaire stood too.

“Oh! Yeah, go ahead, thanks for stopping by.” Enjolras smiled and made his way out the door, pausing to wave. Grantaire waved back, grinning when he realized  _ they didn’t argue.  _

Actually, they hadn’t argued  _ at all  _ in the last two days. Grantaire smiled wider at that. 

<<<>>>

“Dude,” Courfeyrac said as he opened the door to the food bank, “Are you still working on that painting?” Grantaire cringed.

“God, yeah. It’s so dumb, I just have  _ no  _ inspiration.” Courfeyrac waved his hand.

“It’s fine. Do I need to bully your professor into giving you a longer extension?” He shook his head. 

“No, no. It’s fine.” Courfeyrac groaned.

“But I kind of wanted to…” Grantaire laughed.

“Well, sorry. She already gave me an extension, I don’t want to seem like I’m… I dunno, exploiting her generosity?”

“What? No, you need the time though.” Courfeyrac shook his head as they turned down the hallway into the donations room. They both were supposed to be sorting today. “Whatever, you do you.” 

“Hey guys!” Enjolras greeted them. Grantaire didn’t realize he’d be in a group with both Courfeyrac  _ and  _ Enjolras. This could not go well. Who did this to him? 

God? What the hell, man? 

Regardless, he and Courfeyrac got directions on what to do, and started on a box of random non-perishables. A few minutes into sorting, Courfeyrac decided to start a conversation.

“So, how are we doing?” He asked, gathering a stack of soup cans and placing them into a box. 

“Pretty okay,” Enjolras said simply.

“Yeah, same,” Grantaire agreed. Courfeyrac nodded slowly, grinning mischievously. “What are you smiling about?” 

“Nooooothing…” Enjolras squinted at him.

“Courfeyrac--” Enjolras seemingly understood what was going on much quicker than Grantaire, and went to do something.

“ _ ENJOLRAS IS LYING TO YOU! _ ” He shouted before he could stop him. “ _ FIGURE IT OUT! _ ” And, with that, Courfeyrac slammed the door to the donations room, leaving Enjolras and Grantaire alone. 

Grantaire looked to Enjolras.

“What does that mean?” Enjolras put his hands to his temples, looking thoroughly red. 

“God, he’s too much,” He answered, “He’s talking about the cookies.” Grantaire stared at him. 

“What?” 

“He didn’t make the cookies!” Enjolras ran a hand through his hair, stalling before adding, “Um, I did.” Grantaire stared further. He had assumed some big thing was about to be admitted, not whatever the hell  _ this _ means. Enjolras waved a hand.

“It’s not that important, let’s just move on--” Grantaire shook his head.

“No, based on Courfeyrac’s screaming I think it is very important.” He sat on a box. “Do explain.” Enjolras shook his hands, searching for a way to get out of this. 

“Uh, okay, well.” He took a deep breath. “I didn’t want to tell you I made you cookies because I didn’t want to like, make you think I was weird.” Grantaire tried and failed to fight laughter. “What? It was a valid reason! We never really have normal conversations, I was worried it would be strange if I just, like, showed up at your home with cookies!”

“Okay, yeah, valid,” Grantaire replied, “Why is this a problem though? Why do you care what I think? I’m pretty sure that’s the first time that’s ever come up.” Enjolras went wide eyed. “What now?”

“Uh… Shit.” Grantaire stopped.

“What?” Enjolras shook his hands again, looking around.

“Courfeyrac, still there?” He asked.

“Yup!” They heard, muffled through the door. Enjolras cursed.

“Okay, uh, well,” He started, “I may or may not have feelings for you?” Courfeyrac cheered from outside. “Shut up, Courf!” Grantaire stared at the ground, not answering. Enjolras looked back at him. “Ah, yeah, okay. This was a bad idea.” Grantaire’s head shot up.

“Wait, Enjolras, hold on--” Enjolras was already opening the door, meeting a very confused Courfeyrac. “Enjolras!” Grantaire met eyes with Courf.

“What did you do?” He asked, walking back into the room.

“I don’t know!” Grantaire looked back at the door, craning his neck to see outside into the hallway. “He’s not leaving, is he?” Courfeyrac shook his head.

“No, that wouldn’t be like him.” Their question was answered when Combeferre walked in, looking questioningly at the both of them.

“What--” He asked, followed quickly by Courfeyrac shaking his head.

“I dunno, if he wants to explain he will,” He replied. Combeferre nodded. Grantaire and Courfeyrac debriefed him on what they were to do, and they continued. However, Grantaire didn’t stop thinking about what the  _ hell _ just happened.

<<<>>>

Enjolras had feelings for Grantaire. Grantaire didn’t know what to do about it. He had been home for about two hours now, and he still couldn’t comprehend what to do.

He had an idea.

<<<>>>

“Hey, Enjolras?” Grantaire knocked, anxious to find how Enjolras would react. A few moments went by, and nothing happened. “Enjolras, hey, I’m really sorry--” The door opened. Grantaire didn’t even hear him coming. 

“What--” Enjolras started, stopping when he saw what was in Grantaire’s hands. “What is on that plate?” He squinted at him suspiciously.

“I made you cookies,” Grantaire replied, bracing himself for the answer.

“You… You made me cookies.” Enjolras hid his face in his hands. “May I ask why?”

“I felt bad. About what happened at the food bank, so… I made you cookies.” They stood in silence. “Because you made  _ me _ cookies. And I wanted to return the favor.” Grantaire added after a second. 

“You want to, um, come inside?” Enjolras asked, taking the plate. ‘We can talk, if you want.” Grantaire nodded and stepped inside. 

“So,” He said, bouncing on his heels, not sure what to do. “What exactly did you want to uh—“ He embellished the last words with jazz hands, and quickly regretted it. “—talk about.” 

“Not quite sure.” Grantaire nodded slowly. 

“Okay, uh, well, I will say,” He took a moment, “That I do… reciprocate those feelings, I just kind of. Paused. Back at the food bank.” Enjolras looked up. 

“You do?” He asked, no longer hiding his face in his hands. Now that he wasn’t, Grantaire could see the very large amount of red in his cheeks. 

“Ah. Uh, great.” They fell into silence again. Enjolras set the plate down on a cabinet. Grantaire thought for a moment.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked. Enjolras looked up again, thoroughly more red than before.

“Yes please.” Grantaire pulled him in by his shirt sleeve. His chest exploded. Whether it was from happiness or surprise or fear or  _ whatever _ , he had no idea. But it definitely felt good. Enjolras’ hands in his hair, his breath against his cheek, just Enjolras being so close to him, felt more amazing than Grantaire could even imagine _.  _ Except he didn’t have to imagine. It was happening. 

As they drew apart, Grantaire opened his eyes and looked straight into Enjolras’. Blue, very very blue. The cliché would be to describe them as ocean or sky, but they weren’t just that. They were Enjolras blue. Grantaire didn’t want to look away. 

“So, um,” Enjolras said after a beat, “Yeah, that was…” 

“Fantastic,” Grantaire finished for him. Enjolras nodded, laughing. 

“Wanna eat cookies?” Grantaire followed suit, nodding as happily as he had in weeks. 

“Hell yes.” 

**Author's Note:**

> comment/kudos if u enjoyed!!! find me on tumblr @/not-a-christmas-tree in case you want more random shit like this lol. <3 thank you so much for reading!!


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